


That Which Will Not Heal

by aestivali



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Allusions to Shiro's PTSD, Anal Fingering, Angst, Chronic Pain, Dom Keith (Voltron), Dom/sub, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Psychological Trauma, Scarring, Sub Shiro (Voltron), injured Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:32:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestivali/pseuds/aestivali
Summary: After Shiro is rescued from another terrible situation, Keith helps him take the first step on the road to recovery.





	That Which Will Not Heal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).



_Four weeks,_ thinks Keith as he gently guides Shiro to their bed. _Four weeks he was on that planet. Four weeks too goddamn long._

"You're frowning," says Shiro, sliding his arm around Keith's shoulder into a better position.

Keith grunts. "It's just my face."

" _Keith,_ " Shiro says, and there's a hint of sharpness to his voice.

For a moment, Keith considers arguing - but then Shiro stumbles, and he has to quickly shore him up. And with the man in his arms, he can't deny him. "Yeah, I'm frowning. Did you expect me to be all sunshine and smiles?"

"Well, a smile would be nice," Shiro says slowly, and it's just earnest enough that Keith does smile a little.

"Okay, I get that you don't want everything to be doom and gloom after..." Keith clears his throat, and carefully lowers Shiro onto the bed. "But I'm pretty pissed off about what they did to you. If that's allowed."

Shiro settles himself into the soft fabrics, and Keith can see the relief on his face. _How much pain is he in?_ At that thought, Keith swallows and tries not to let his frown deepen.

"Fine, fine," Shiro says, airily, though he flinches as he leans back on the pillow. "Permission granted."

"Good," says Keith, as he climbs onto the mattress, making sure not to jostle the man next to him. "Because I don't want to have to be mad at them _and_ you."

Shiro stretches experimentally, flexing muscles that - four weeks ago - would have responded perfectly. Now, the movement sends a flutter of pain across his face, though he suppresses it quickly. "Come on, Keith, I know you can't stay mad at me." 

"Alright, I can't," says Keith, and gently slips his hand into Shiro's. "But you should also know you can't hide things from me."

Shiro squeezes his fingers, and it's just that little bit more feeble than before. "I know. But I don't think I'm ready to..."

"Hey," grunts Keith, squeezing harder. "I know the deal. We've been here before, and you're gonna work through this. You've got all the space and time you need, and I'll be here the whole way. However you need me."

Shiro looks down. ''This... might be a little different to before."

Keith shakes his head quickly. "Physical or mental, it makes no difference. You'll get there."

"I appreciate the optimism, Keith, but if the castle's advanced pods can't heal it, how is my body alone going to manage it?"

Keith looks away, remembering the two days Shiro spent in the pod when they finally got him back. Yes, it had done him some good - it had healed all of Shiro's wounds. But the pods, advanced though they are, have limits. They cannot heal scars. Some things, once done, cannot be undone.

But when it comes to Shiro, Keith's never going to give up hope. He looks back, and Shiro meets his gaze. "Time," he replies, simply. "Even scars can fade. And everything else - you can build up your strength, you can adapt."

Shiro smiles softly. "You're a real motivational speaker today."

"One of us has to be," says Keith, shifting a little closer. "Otherwise Coran would have to do it."

"Well, there's a thought," says Shiro, faking horror.

"Better not think about it too much," says Keith, propping himself up on one elbow, "or you might summon him."

"Yeah, better not. I don't think Coran would appreciate walking in on us like this."

"Like this?" asks Keith, gesturing between them. "We're not doing anything."

With a big grin and only the smallest flinch, Shiro edges closer. "But we could be."

"Mmm," responds Keith, moving in, almost close enough to kiss him. "Sounds like a plan."

"It's a very complex strategy," says Shiro, his breath ghosting over Keith's lips, but he doesn't cross the distance.

"I'm no good at strategy," says Keith, and dives in for the kiss.

Shiro moans softly as their mouths press together, the first kiss they've shared in a month, warm and needy. He shifts onto his side for better access, and Keith parts his lips eagerly, allowing him in. As Shiro's tongue explores, Keith brings a hand up to his face - one of the few places not to have gained any scars. In response, Shiro raises his metal arm - that, at least, works as well as ever - and clutches at Keith's shoulder, pulling him closer.

It feels just like old times. Like nothing's changed. And Keith knows how this would usually progress.

He breaks off kissing for a moment. "You sure you're up for this?"

"Of course," says Shiro, the exhaustion on his face submerging for a moment as a smile rises. "I've missed you."

Keith's stomach clenches with the weight behind these words. "Missed you too, buddy," he says, trying not to sound too vulnerable. It's against his nature, and he doesn't want to drag this down with emotion - but he knows Shiro needs to hear it. He kind of needs to hear it too. But before the words can sink like an anchor, he draws Shiro's lips back against his.

Shiro eagerly resumes, letting out another moan, and Keith reaches down to start peeling off his clothes. His fingers work nimbly, but Shiro doesn't move so easily to accommodate him, and even fumbles when he tries to take hold of Keith's shirt.

Keith pulls back carefully. "Lie on your back," he says.

For a moment, Shiro hesitates, flexing the hand that betrayed him. Then he nods, and leans back.

Keith takes this opportunity to quickly strip himself, dropping his clothes into a messy pile on the floor. His cock is already half-hard and it bounces idly as he climbs back onto the bed, sliding between Shiro's legs to undo his belt. Shiro flushes at the sight, eyes rapidly darkening, but he lets Keith work in silence.

Even with Shiro's reduced mobility, it doesn't take Keith long to slip off his belt, his pants, his shirt. But with each item, more scars are revealed - new scars that Keith notes even as he carries on, lips pursing as he bites back a comment. And Shiro, though his desire is evident, looks more distant with every moment, until his chest is revealed and Keith cannot stand it any longer.

"What did they do to you?" he breathes.

Shiro shakes his head and looks away.

"Hey," says Keith, louder, more insistently. He taps Shiro's knee so he looks back at him. "Rhetorical question."

Shiro gives him a weak and wonky smile. "Yeah."

"Yeah," repeats Keith, fiercely. "Nothing happens to you tonight that you don't want. That includes talking to me. Or touching me. Whatever. What you say, goes."

Swallowing, Shiro brushes his scarred hand against Keith's. "It's not that I don't want..." His voice cracks.

"Hey," Keith says again, more softly. He takes Shiro's fingers in his, gently, but still he sees a twitch of pain across Shiro's brow. "You don't need to explain yourself to me."

Shiro aims for another smile. "Your boyfriend comes back broken and scarred, and you don't want to know what happened?"

Keith tenses, instantly burning inside. "Mostly I want to tear apart the people who did this to you."

For the first time since they rescued him, Shiro chuckles.

Keith shifts awkwardly, rage still boiling in his gut. He's picturing it now - the blood, the begging, his bayard delivering glorious vengeance - but they aren't here. Shiro is. "Anyway," he says, swallowing, "you aren't broken."

Shiro looks down at himself, then back up at Keith. "Debatable. At least half of me is, so rounding up..."

"You're not a math problem, you're a person," snaps Keith. It comes out harsher than he means it, but Shiro is - smiling? Keith sighs. "You and your goddamn gallows humour..."

"Sorry," says Shiro. But he's still smiling, and Keith finds a sliver of gratitude for that.

"Don't you dare start apologising," says Keith.

Shiro pauses for a moment, then tips his chin up, a wicked look in his eyes. "Oh," he says, slower and more intently than before. " _Sorry._ ''

Keith groans. "Hey. Can you just let me be the kind, supportive one for two seconds? I'm bad enough at this as it is."

Shiro falters, looking down. "Sorry," he mumbles, without even thinking.

For a few seconds, there is silence. Then Keith starts to laugh. "You're lucky I like that about you."

"Mmm," rumbles Shiro, deep in his throat. "I may not have a whole lot of luck in general, but I am definitely lucky with you."

Keith thinks, _No, I'm the lucky one._ But with the air already raw tonight, he can't bring himself to say it. So instead he leans forward and says, "Do you want to get luckier?"

"Well," says Shiro, "I hoped you were undressing me for a reason."

"I definitely was." Keith brushes a hand over Shiro's exposed flesh. "Before you had to go and distract me by being all noble."

"Gotta get in my recommended daily allowance of self-sacrifice."

"I think you've done enough sacrifice for a good few months," says Keith, tracing one of the better-healed scars. "Now it's time for something else."

"Well, if you insist, I will nobly submit to it."

Keith leans in closer, eyes dark and dangerous. "I like the sound of you submitting."

Shiro lets out a slow, shuddering breath. "Me too."

"Good," says Keith, pressing a flat kiss against Shiro's cheek. "Let me take care of everything. But remember what I said - nothing happens that you don't want."

Licking his lips, Shiro experimentally arches his back; both pain and pleasure skitter across his face, but mostly the latter. "I definitely want this."

Keith looks down at where Shiro's erection is tenting his underwear. "But I don't think you want these," he says, sliding his thumbs under the waistband.

"If you think that's best," purrs Shiro.

"I do," Keith says casually, as he pulls the material down to expose Shiro's hard cock.

The fabric drags over his sensitive skin and Shiro hisses, sultry and low - not like the involuntary sounds he's been making whenever someone touches certain innocent parts of him since his return. Keith swallows, and privately promises to turn all of Shiro's noises back to pleasure.

"Hips up," Keith demands, businesslike, and as Shiro complies he quickly whips that underwear off, leaving that scarred but beautiful body spread out entirely naked before him. He takes a moment to appreciate the view as Shiro settles back onto the mattress.

"Like what you see?" asks Shiro, but it doesn't sound as confident as it has in the past.

"Always," Keith says immediately, then makes a show of raking his gaze down the full length of him. He can't imagine not being attracted to this.

Shiro shifts a little awkwardly under the intensity of those eyes, but he relaxes when Keith slowly strokes one finger down a bare patch of skin. It's warm and trembling, and there's a part of Keith that wants to hold him down and fuck him, feel all those muscles shuddering as he wrecks him. _But he's already wrecked,_ thinks Keith. _Got to go easy on him. I want this to be good._

He makes a decision. "Spread your legs," he says, and slips off the bed to root around in the nightstand. "If you can," he adds.

Shiro nods and opens his legs wider, leaving more room for Keith to kneel between them when he returns with the lube.

As he slicks his hands, Keith holds them up so Shiro can watch the repetitive motions - and anticipate what they'll do to him. So when Keith moves one hand to gently touch his knee, Shiro's gaze follows as if he's hypnotised. Keith smiles, and lets a finger trail up his thigh in a way that seems lazy, ambulatory, casual - yet, somehow, easily avoids the parts most likely to cause pain.

When Keith reaches the top, he slides his finger over and then swirls once around Shiro's hole. The puckered flesh twitches under his touch as Shiro lets out a little moan.

"You're hungry for this," says Keith.

"Yes, sir," gasps Shiro, and Keith feels a little shiver at hearing that word come out of Shiro's mouth instead of his.

"Good," says Keith, running his finger again around that sensitive flesh. "But I'll decide what you get tonight."

"I'll take what you give me, sir," says Shiro, and Keith knows he would, whatever it was - but he's not going to push him. He's going to make Shiro come, and come hard, but he won't push past the man's new and more restrictive limits.

"Two fingers then," says Keith. "If you behave."

"I will," promises Shiro, and waits patiently.

Keith smiles, and decides to reward him. He moves his finger over that hole and strokes gently at the entrance once, twice, three times - and when Shiro groans, he carefully pushes in, his slick finger easily slipping through the tight muscles. It's not much, hardly anything, but after four weeks of feeling no touch more caring than a punch, Shiro melts at it.

"That's it," breathes Keith, slowly sinking in up to the knuckle. He knows Shiro can take this easily, can take far more, but he wants to draw out maximum pleasure from minimum contact, so as not to overwhelm him. After resting inside that soft heat for a few moments, Keith begins to slide his finger back out, letting Shiro feel the friction of skin on skin, even in this small way.

Shiro's breath hitches as Keith pulls out, leaving only his fingertip touching that entrance - then slides in again, a little faster this time, spreading the slickness as he goes. Soon he is working his way in and out of that tight channel with ease, even as the intimate muscles clench and twitch against his ministrations. When he's satisfied, he pulls his finger out and sweeps around the entrance once again.

"Ready for the second?"

Shiro nods eagerly, and Keith lines up two fingers before slowly pressing them in. _This is the only kind of torture Shiro should ever have to suffer,_ he thinks, as he watches Shiro's mouth gradually fall open. He knows what it feels like to be penetrated this way - the gradual slide and stretch, the strange yet glorious rub of another person's body inside his, the aching for more, faster, _please_.

As Keith begins to thrust both fingers in and out, he sees Shiro's hands twitch in the direction of his cock.

"No touching," barks Keith. "Keep your hands where they are."

Shiro groans, and grips at the sheets instead.

"Don't worry," says Keith, more softly. "I have other plans." And then he curls his fingers - up, in, round, so they brush the most sensitive spot inside Shiro.

He is rewarded by the gasp that tears from Shiro's mouth, and the way those tight warm muscles clench around his digits. Keith smiles. _Still the same reaction._

But that's not enough for Keith, and he knows it's not enough for Shiro either. So he resumes the sliding and stroking and adds the curling to the mix. The sensation is amazing on his fingers, but he knows it feels even better on the receiving end. And even if he didn't, the way Shiro's breath is now coming short and fast would be a clue. His own breath is uneven too, his cock achingly hard between his legs, urged higher by the warmth on his hand, the sight of Shiro in front of him, the little sounds Shiro is making.

Keith can't resist any longer. He reaches down his free hand and starts to pump at his own dick. Shiro, even in this midst of his pleasure, sees this and lets out a throaty chuckle. Keith smirks, and thrusts his fingers faster.

Soon Shiro is groaning as he comes, those tight hot muscles clamping rhythmically around Keith's fingers. Keith keeps stroking, guiding him through his orgasm, until Shiro is flopped bonelessly against the mattress. It's only when Shiro sighs and shifts that he pulls out.

Keith moves that hand to join the other one on his cock. He pumps at himself, feeling the silkiness of Shiro's insides mirrored in his own flesh, the friction and warmth driving him on.

"Watch me," he groans, as Shiro's eyes flutter open again.

And Shiro does, avidly, as Keith strokes himself, grunting as he thrusts into the circle made by his own hands. It's not as tight or warm as Shiro would be, but the relief of having his boyfriend back with him and the satisfaction of seeing him laid out like this before him is enough. He comes with a moan, and Shiro - whose eyes have barely seen a friendly face for weeks - is clearly drinking the sight in with pleasure.

Keith sits back on his heels, panting.

Both of them are too strung out for words, really, so he silently gets up and grabs a cloth before wiping them both down. Then he pulls the sheets up to cover Shiro, before he can start shivering.

"Thanks," says Shiro, quietly.

Keith shrugs and settles down next to him. "Whatever you need," he says.


End file.
